The Devil Without
by Epona3
Summary: Matt has never felt so blind.
1. Chapter 1

_**Hello Daredevil Fandom. **_

_**Normally I wouldn't post anything until I feel 100% completely totally secure with the canon. But in this case, I hope the fact that I've read over 200 comics since I discovered them two weeks ago is sufficient. For all I know, this story is covered in those hundreds of comics not available on Marvel Unlimited. Maybe it isn't. Maybe I have things out of order. **_

_**What I do know, is I have a feel for Matt from the comics, and I wanted to write about him, before the TV show came out. **_

_**So here you have it. **_

_**I think it will be 4-5 chapters, all posted before 12:01 PST on April 10. **_

_**(And Hello CA folks that have an alerts et up for me. I love you and haven't completely abandoned you. I just, um, discovered this guy, and needed to torture him a little.) **_

I don't know why I went to the chapel. I don't know why I had done anything that I did that week. I'm sure I saved a life, but at what cost?

I didn't want to pray. I didn't want to yell at God. I think I just wanted a comfortable place to sit, away from my house.

I don't need my cane to guide me down the aisle. Even without my heightened senses, I had been there enough to know the place like my own home. But, aside from appearances, the sound of my cane tapping against the old wooden floors creates a symphony that only I could enjoy.

Tap. The cross hangs over the altar.

Tap. The front of the aisle is clear. They must be planning for a funeral.

Tap. Flowers.

Of course, I could smell those from a block away. Calla Lillies.

I didn't want to talk to her, but as I moved closer, I felt calmer. The logical side of my brain had been failing me, so I let my emotions pull me toward her, and took a seat one pew back.

I should at least put the kneeling rail down and try to pray, but I wasn't ready. I simply took in her scent and felt the overwhelming emptiness of the room.

She faced forward as she spoke. "I have no prayers left for the devil, Matthew."

I bowed my head, knowing that she had seen the most recent headlines. I had nothing to say.

"I usually end my daily prayer by praying for Matthew Murdock and this neighborhood's Devil. But not anymore. Today I only pray for Matthew." Without another word, having not even turned toward me, she stood up and walked away.

I considered going to confession, but would only be assigned penance that I had no intention of completing. I would repent in my own ways.

I tapped the cane back down the aisle, barely noticing an older woman's hand reach out to grab my arm. I should have been startled, but I quickly recognized Sister Gwen from the smell of burnt candles that always followed her. Sister Gwen spends a lot of time staring into the flames. Sometimes I wonder how much she lost before turning to the church.

"You need to pay your respects." She said.

I looked toward where she gripped me and could feel the blood pumping through her fingers. She was angry. Maggie had been angry. I've disappointed them all.

I turned toward the altar and crossed myself before walking to the back of the church. Instead of exiting, I went to the small door that few people notice, which opens to a narrow staircase. I took the stairs two at a time, no longer wanting or needing the appearance of the cane. The walls came closer as I got higher, until I reached the landing at the top. Quickly, I pulled off my street clothes, revealing the costume that has become my second skin. I poke my head out the window and use my radar to survey the area. All clear.

This is how I would spend time with God.

...

When I returned to my house, I was feeling more refreshed. The wind in my face and the exhilaration I felt as I traveled around the city in my own most efficient way cleansed my soul in a way I can't easily describe. I stopped in the office, on the lower floor of my house. Foggy had gone home. Good. He needed his rest, too.

I took a shower and let the sounds of the city, my city, lull me to sleep.

...

The first thing that I noticed, when I woke up, was that I felt rested. Late nights, early mornings, and the ability to hear every sneeze for a three block radius doesn't result in a healthy sleep pattern. This morning, I woke before my alarm. The city was quiet.

Too quiet.

I realized that all of the normal morning hustle in Hell's Kitchen was missing. I could hear cars, doors, and people on the street blocks away, but I couldn't hear any of the normal, louder sounds, right outside my window.

I checked my watch as I put it on. It was eight o'clock. Foggy should already be downstairs in our office. But I didn't hear him.

Everything was so quiet.

I was tying my tie when I heard the knock on a door a block away. I pushed the lone sound away, but it became more persistent.

A moment later, I reached to open the door out of my bedroom, and I realized it was shaking.

I put my hand on the door, and realized that it wasn't shaking, it was knocking.

The knocking that I heard a block away was synchronized with the shaking of my door.

Disoriented, I took a deep breath through my nose. I couldn't smell the person on the other side of the door, and this freaked me out. Only the worst of the bad guys could mask their scent.

But the bad guys didn't normally knock, either.

"Matt, This is serious, we're going to be late!"

It sounded as though Foggy was shouting at me from a block away. In case I was wrong, I went ahead and opened my door. At least I could take on the bad guy with a solid night of sleep.

Foggy pushed into the room, talking a mile a minute. He had every right to be upset, though I can't really tell you what it was about, this time. I just knew that he lacked his usual Foggy-smell. I could smell something on him, but it wasn't as strong as normal. He was talking quietly as he gracefully paced.

"Foggy, I'm not hungover or anything. You can talk at a normal level."

"What?" Foggy responded.

"You are tip-toeing around, practically whispering."

"ARGH. What did you get into last night?"

"Sleep. I got a good night's sleep. Must have forgotten to set my alarm."

"Well, you look presentable enough for Judge Richards. Let's get on to court."

I reached for my cane and sunglasses, following behind my friend. But when I stepped out the front door, well, there's no way to describe how I felt, other than "Lost."

Sometimes I describe my "Radar" as something I throw out, as though it's a conscious decision to put a message out, and that there is some sort of wait before the signals bounce back, educating me about the surrounding landscape. But it's more natural and unexplainable than that. I'm totally blind, but usually I can feel the world around me, in live action.

Stepping outside my apartment, I realized that my radar hadn't been functioning at all.

Foggy hadn't been quiet, my ears were failing me. He hadn't lost his signature morning scent, I had lost my bloodhound nose. And now I was standing on the Hell's Kitchen side of a doorway, about to step into New York City completely, totally, and un-enhancedly blind.

I hoped I remembered how to actually rely on my cane.


	2. Chapter 2

"Are you sure you're okay this morning, Matty? You just went pale."

"I'm not okay, pal." Tap, step, tap, step. Amazingly, I found the car door.

"Do you need a doctor?" Foggy asked from the driver side.

I opened my door and climbed inside, hitting my head along the way. Oh, yeah, I forgot that I needed to check for the top of the door opening. Oddly, it didn't hurt that bad.

"I'm taking you to a doctor." Foggy declared.

"No," I replied. Doctor Strange might be able to help, but nobody with a legitimate M.D. could fix my current ailment.

"I thought you were all rested and refreshed and stuff."

Foggy's driving was far more pleasant now that I couldn't feel every bump in the asphalt.

"I am." I replied.

"Then what's wrong?"

I knew I would need help to get through the day without hurting myself even more. How fitting-I needed to hide the fact that I was truly blind, after struggling to keep up the appearance of being truly blind for most of my life. Besides, why keep more secrets from my best friend?

"Foggy, I think I woke up normal."

"Normal?" Foggy replied.

I think he even waved his hand in front of my face. The fact that I wasn't sure was upsetting. "Well, normal and blind." I clarified.

"So, we are about to enter jury selection for a trial where I still think our defendant is guilty, and you can't do any of your thing you do to find us sympathetic jurors?"

"I was more worried about finding the urinal, but there's also the jury selection thing, yeah."

Foggy was quiet a moment and it frustrated the crap out of me. I'm not used to things being so quiet. Was this news making him nervous? Was his heart racing? I tried, again, to reach inside myself and find my powers. Stick always tried to tell me that they were inside of me, something I could have used even without the radiation.

Nope. Nothing. "Foggy?"

"So, who did this to you? I didn't see any headlines this morning."

"I'm not sure." I lied. I had a good idea, though.

"So, do you need-"

"-your elbow. I need to hold your elbow."

"Oh yeah. We've done that before."

"I know, but now I'll actually need you to watch out for for hydrants."

"I always watched out for fire hydrants."

"Yeah," I smiled. "You're a good friend."

"Now you're getting all sappy and it's freaking me out. Let's go inside and see if you can find some way to be useful."

The walk through security was more unnerving than it should have been. It was a series of people, but none of them were surrounded by the details that make them the specific person that I know.

"Good morning, Muster Murdock!"

I should be able to recognize the voice. I thought I recognized people by their voice just as much as their smell and heartbeat, but I couldn't tell if this was Bernie, Steve, Justin, or Dennis.

I forced a smile, in reply, and held tight to Foggy.

"Can you be a little lighter with the elbow, there?" He whispered.

"Sorry." Even holding his arm felt weird, without the blood pumping beneath my hand.

…

After a horrific day in the courtroom, where I mostly sat and meditated while Foggy interviewed jurors, Foggy talked me into going out to dinner with him.

It was the last thing I wanted to do. I needed to figure out how to get my senses back, before one of Daredevil's enemies realized they were missing. I was a sitting duck.

"What about your meditation?" Foggy asked, after we ordered.

This place actually had a Braille menu, which I actually had to use. While the restaurant definitely had a scent, I couldn't distinguish any one dish from another.

"I meditated all day in court. Everything is so quiet, now, I think I could meditate in the middle of Grand Central Station."

"That's why you were so unhelpful."

"Well, that and the loss of my inner lie detector."

"You don't have any connections in your, um, community, that might know a way to fix this?" Foggy asked.

"Yeah, but it's not like we have a call-tree or anything."

I don't even know Dr. Strange's address. I know his rooftop, in relation to the other rooftops. "I think the best bet is for me to lay low."

Maybe I can put on the Daredevil costume and take the elevator to a rooftop on occasion, just to show the world I'm not dead.

"I'll believe that what I see it." Foggy responded.

The waitress brought Foggy a beer. I considered having some myself, but the last thing I needed was my senses to be further dulled. I ate a flavorless meal that I hoped wasn't poison. I began to wonder if my senses were dulled to what everybody else experiences, or if I now had below average capabilities. Surely food isn't normally this boring.

Foggy walked back to the house with me, for which I was grateful. It turns out I'm pretty good at being actually-blind in my own neighborhood. We were almost there when a figure stepped in front of us.

Come on, Matt. You can do this.

I gripped tightly to my cane. If I'm honest, I wasn't successful with my courtroom meditations because I was making sure I had a plan for when this happened. Jimmy is just a small-time thug I occasionally run into. I can take him. But I wish Foggy wasn't so close.

"We don't need any trouble tonight." Foggy spoke.

"I wondered when you two would go public with your relationship. Now here you are, walking arm-in-arm, like the couple of faggots you are."

"You jealous, Jimmy?" I asked, adding a smirk. I needed him to come closer.

"Matt-" Foggy started to plead.

"I'm okay, Foggy. You go on home. I'll be there in a little bit."

I leaned closer to Foggy, and hoping there weren't too many people watching, I gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Just one?" I whispered.

"Yeah." He replied, quietly.

I nodded. "Go."

I heard Foggy obey, but couldn't tell how far he got. Oh well, here we go.


	3. Chapter 3

"Daredevil is a homo. Man, wait until I tell Turk." I could hear Jimmy smiling.

"What do you want, Jimmy?"

"You homo. You say you're cleaning up this neighborhood, and then you go kissing a man on the street. That's too far, man. Keep that shit down in the Village or something."

Good. He's angry, and getting close. I pretend to be calm.

I didn't notice the second person come from my side. I haven't taken a surprise hit like that in a while, just a solid fist to the side of the face, and it didn't hurt nearly like I remembered.

I spun quickly, blocking the next punch. I landed one of my own before Jimmy joined in. "You're off your game tonight, Daredevil."

Keep talking, Jimmy.

I've fought without my senses, before. As my enemies have learned how I fight, they've come up with ways to disarm me. But in the heat of the moment, when it really matters, I could almost always make them work.

"Rraaawwwrrrt" he yelled as he ran at me. Bless him.

I was actually able to duck down and flip him over my head. I stood and listened for the next attacker, but seemed to be alone.

My senses didn't return with this fight.

"Foggy?" I called out as I used the cane to orient myself. It's amazing how quickly I get turned around when the walls don't speak back.

Footsteps ran toward me. "Foggy?" I hoped it was him, and not another attacker.

"Are they going to be okay?" Foggy's voice asked.

I tried to summon my senses to check for a heartbeat, or anything. Nothing. Lots and lots of nothing. "I don't know. Do they look alive?"

Silence.

"Foggy?"

"Sorry. It's just weird for you to... Be like this."

"You're telling me."

Tap. Curb. Move left.

Tap. Clear, step forward. The stairs should be up here on the left. Tap. Tap. So little information with each tap, now. Without a word, Foggy stepped next to me and I took his arm.

Silently, he led me the next few feet to my house.

"You going to be okay?" Foggy asked.

"Yeah. He threw a light punch."

"You're bleeding pretty badly."

I took a deep breath. There was the light scent of blood. I touched my forehead. I could hardly feel the cut, but it was definitely there.

"I guess there are advantages to not being able to feel everything."

"I can stay-"

"No, I'll be fine, really. And I've started enough rumors about the two of us, already."

"No kiss goodnight?" Foggy asked.

"Sorry about that, by the way." I replied, glad he had taken it all in good spirits.

"I'm honored. Though I hope this doesn't mean some super-villian will be using me as bait, soon."

"Yeah. You're probably doomed. Make the most of it tonight, then."

"Call if you need me."

With that, Foggy was gone, and I had my house to myself.

I've lived in this neighborhood most of my life. There is a symphony from the City that floods through the windows, surrounding my life.

But right now, the silence is all so suffocating.

The key to meditation is to push everything away. Stick taught me to push through my hyper-senses and find an inner place where none of that mattered. Meditating should be easy now. But when there's nothing to push away, how do I go further?

I turned on some music. I turned it up as high as I could.

It wasn't enough, so I dug out an old radio, and found a station with just a little bit of static. This would have burned my ears. But now, it's just starting to feel like what I knew as "Normal."

More noise. I found three more radios. I could feel my heart rate decrease.

I sat in the floor, crossing my legs, and tried to find myself.

Nothing.

Nothing but nothing.

I turned off all the noise and was left with the vast nothingness of my house. I ran my fingers through my hair and remembered the cut. How much blood had I spread around, before and after meditating?

I took a shower, hot enough to scald my skin, and climbed into bed.

I couldn't sleep with all this silence.

So quiet.

I needed to feel something. I needed to hear things. So I went to the roof.

This feels better. Wind on my skin, traffic buzzing. I put my pillow down and lay there.

So little distractions, I don't have to concentrate so hard on pushing things away. This frees me up to think.

How did this happen?

My mind raced with my list of enemies, and their skill sets. Then the skills of their allies.

Perhaps I should have focused more on my allies. An overweight attorney is a great friend, but not much help in the superhero department. I wonder if any of this is affecting Peter Parker?

Overwhelmed with this idea, I go inside to call him.

"I just got to bed. I'm not getting out." Peter answered.

"Are you alone?" I asked.

"If someone else was here, wouldn't you know?"

"My senses aren't as great over the phone. Can we chat?"

"Are we under attack?"

"I don't know. Are you under attack?" I asked.

"Matt?"

"So it's all fine in Spidey world?"

"Except I'm sleep deprived."

"Stop by tomorrow?"

"How about I meet you on the library roof?"

"Meet me on my roof."

"Deal."

Obviously, Peter's skills are still sharp.

I go back to the roof, where the pre-dawn sounds odd the city walking up lulls me to sleep.

...

"Matt!"

I wake up hearing my name shouted. Groggily, I turn toward the voice.

"Matt, oh no, are you... Yeah you're okay."

I feel Foggy slap my face.

"What?"

"I got here this morning, and all of your things were here, but you were gone. When I saw all the blood, I assumed-"

"-that something happened."

I felt the cut on my face. It wasn't still bleeding.

"I was worried."

"Thanks."

I got up, taking my pillow.

"Why were you up here?"

"Trying to find enough noise to get to sleep. Sorry to have scared you."

"It's okay. I was being too paranoid."

"It was probably just the right amount of paranoid."

"Any change?"

I attempted to throw out my radar. "Nothing."

He walked closer. "I'm sure it will come back, soon."

He brushed his hand against mine-the proper signal for me to take his arm as a sighted guide. I was more accustomed to my own protocol when Foggy and I first met.

"I'm good, here, Foggy, but thank you."

"I'm trying to remember everything, buddy. It's been a while, though."

I followed the sound of my best friend's footsteps to the trap door into my house. I needed to put some extra effort into this law gig, since we were about to lose a few more cases than normal.


	4. Chapter 4

I guess there were a lot of signals I missed before I heard our secretary scream.

"Sorry!" I heard Peter reply. "The door was open-"

"Peter, come on in." I ushered him into my office.

"Didn't mean to sneak up on her. I've been doing everything I can to get your attention."

"Sorry. I lost track of time." I explained.

"What happened to your head?" He asked.

"I don't know."

"You don't know how you got that big cut and a black eye?"

Oh. I touched the wound again. It just didn't hurt that much. "That's from a sucker punch yesterday."

"What did you think I was talking about?"

"Is there anybody new in town? Anybody that might be able to mess with our heads?"

"Like Mister Fear?"

"I guess it could be him, but I'm thinking about something more subtle."

"Been pretty quiet recently."

"Yes it has." I responded, looking toward him.

"Yeah?"

"Real quiet."

"Oh no, man. You think something's brewing?"

"No. I mean, I don't know. I don't know a lot, all of a sudden. My senses have disappeared."

"Whoa."

"So I'm going to be laying low a little while. But if you hear anything-"

"Yeah man. Of course."

...

The rest of my day was uneventful. Too uneventful. I got more lawyering done in five hours than the past five weeks, but clients don't hire me for my efficiency with paperwork, they hire me because of my intuition.

Foggy seemed nervous around me all of a sudden. "You wanna-"

"Go on home, Foggy. I'll be fine."

"Okay."

I can tell he hesitates before going out, but he does eventually leave me alone.

Sitting, waiting, lawyering, all of this was just boring. I needed to get out.

I stepped out of my house, turned right, and counted two hundred and three steps to the corner. I should have already known that. At least I remembered to count this time.

New York City blocks are long. Move just a few, in any direction, and the landscape changes. I stretched my legs as I moved down the sidewalk. Soon enough, I was in the one somewhat empty party of the city: Central Park.

I didn't need big and empty. I was seeking stimulation.

I moved south until I was in the most stimulating block in the City: Times Square. I usually avoid it like the plague, but today it was comforting. I eavesdropped on conversations, some of which were about me. I was assaulted with body odor. I was-

Flat on my face before I even realized what happened.


	5. Chapter 5

"See? Told you be wasn't Daredevil."

I heard the boy's voice as I tried to gain my bearings. He was just a kid.

"Bobbie! You tripped a blind man."

That must be his sister.

"Shut up, Olivia. You thought he was Daredevil, too."

"You okay, mister?"

Oh, thank you for noticing the man your brother just took out.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"You don't look fine. You're bleeding."

I reached for the cut on my face.

"No, your elbow."

Thanks, kid. I felt my elbow. It stung a little. I sniffed my fingers. Yeah, that's blood.

"I'm sorry." The boy's voice was a little bit more sheepish. "You look just like that blind guy they say is Daredevil."

"I get that a lot."

The kids ran off. I felt that I should have somehow taught them a lesson, but how many times will they meet a disabled man that looks like a super-hero? There aren't many of us.

A lady's voice spoke up. "Stupid brats." I assumed she was talking to me as she placed her hand on my arm.

"It's okay."

"Are you sure? You look pretty beat-up."

"Lots of blood?" I hated having to ask, but I wanted to know.

"I think you'll live. I'm staying in a hotel a block away if you want me to clean you up."

My name is Matt Murdock. I have been blind for all of my adult life, but I have still managed to defeat some of the toughest criminals in New York City. Yet when this random woman invited me to her hotel room, I froze.

"Are you sure you didn't hit your head?" She asked. I felt her hand brush against the wound from the previous day.

"Yeah I'm... I'm fine." Stuttering? I've never stuttered in my life. Get yourself together, Matt. "If you're sure it isn't a problem, it would be great to clean up before walking back home."

"So you live here?" She asked.

"Oh, sorry." I extended my hand. "Matt Murdock. Born and raised-"

"-in Hell's kitchen." Her tone changed as she took my hand. "Pleasure to meet you. I'm Katie, and this is my first time in the City."

An awkward silence fell between us.

"So, my hotel is this way." I assumed she was pointing.

"I don't know what you've heard, but I really am blind."

"Oh, yeah, of course, um..."

It was as awkward for me as it was for her. I usually just followed people. Between their smell, my radar, and the way the sight of a cane cleared a path, it was never a problem. But now, "This will be easier if I can just hold your elbow." I extended my hand.

We weaved slowly through the crowds. "There's a guy dressed as spiderman staring at you." She explained.

"Everybody stares at me." I replied, but I still wondered if it was Peter.

"Seems like people can be pretty invisible in this city."

"I could be invisible, but I'm not sure this cane could." Nevermind that it collapses into a billy club.

"This is my hotel." She said, coming to a stop.

"Are we going up?" I asked, worried that she changed her mind. She probably thought she was bringing home Daredevil, when she made the offer.

"Sure," She responded.

"Wait, before we go inside. Which cross - street was that?" I pointed in the direction we had just walked.

"Fifty-third and sixth."

"Okay." I could get home from here, if I needed. Nothing worse than walking block after block, not able to read the signs, waiting until you smelled the right pizza place with your malfunctipning nose.

We wove our way through the sprawling lobby. I wasn't sure I could ever find my way out of here unassisted. On the arms of this stranger, I felt so blind.

"I'm on the fifth floor." She explained in the elevator.

"Thanks."

She led me to her door and we stepped inside. She walked away while I used my cane to get my bearings. So blind. Maybe being with a woman would recharge my senses.

"The bathroom is right here." She gently placed my hand on a doorframe.

I stepped into the bathroom and leaned against a counter. It smelled like a woman in this bathroom. Like a woman a block away, but one that smelled good.

I heard her put a toilet seat down. "The cover is on the toilet, it's just to your right, if you want to sit, I'll clean you up.

I sat, continuing to take in the smells. It wasn't like before, but it was close enough to help me feel at ease.

She had delicate hands and she took mine in hers while she examined my elbow. She wiped it with a cool cloth, then opened a packet with an alcohol wipe.

"Some alcohol to disinfect the wound." Yeah, I didn't need hyper-senses to figure that one out.

"You didn't even flinch." She commented. "It has to sting."

"I've got a pretty high threshold for pain." It was the truth.

"That cut on your face is bleeding." She said as she reached for my glasses. I jerked away, slightly.

"Sorry, I just thought..."

"No, it's okay, you just caught me offguard." I pulled the glasses off, sitting them on the counter.

She delicately touched the skin around my eye, but not where the cut was supposedly bleeding. "You have the faintest of scars. I never would have noticed."

"Like I said earlier, the cane usually gives me away."

I think she's into me. I wonder if I could feel her pulse and know.

Meanwhile, I feel like I'm being analyzed. I've never been afraid to make the first move, but I've never had to doubt a woman's interest. I listen for cues while she puts a fresh bandage on my cut.

"That should hold a little bit better than what you had."

She spoke, but she didn't step back.

What the hell, I'm the Man Without Fear, so I reached behind her head and pulled her in for a kiss.


	6. Chapter 6

I don't remember how we got to the bed, but when we got there, I fell backwards, with her on top.

"Your shirt is so soft." She said, running her fingers over the bottom hem.

"I have sensitive skin." I replied as she pulled it up. I rubbed my hands over her back, subtly trying to feel for her heartbeat.

"Oh my God." she exclaimed.

"What?"

"I just… I didn't expect this."

I couldn't tell if she was making any sense or not, because I was concentrating so hard on finding her heartbeat. Maybe right…

"Ow, that tickles. What are you doing?" She asked.

"I want to feel your heartbeat." I replied. In my head it sounded sexier than it came out.

"Okay…" She was running her hands over my chest. I thought I would do the same, so I started to pull her shirt up.

Every woman is different. Some love for you to touch them in certain places, some are turned off by certain touches. I wasn't with any women until after I developed heightened senses and could recognize the moment I did the wrong thing.

So I'm not used to doing the wrong thing, where women are concerned.

In bed, that is.

So when I ran my fingers over her breasts, and she pulled away, I was a little bit out of my element. "Sorry," I muttered.

What are you supposed to do when you mess up in this situation? Start over? Go back to kissing?

As if I could feel even less capable, she rolled onto the bed beside me and sighed.

No. I'm the Man Without Fear. I will not be afraid of respectfully touching a woman the wrong way.

I gently climbed on top of her, giving her another kiss. The edges of her lips raised into a smile as I pulled away. Good.

I placed my lips on her chest. I could feel her heart beating, steady. Good.

I moved my nose down her abdomen, noticing the scent change as I went lower. She was aroused. Good.

I didn't notice that she was no longer touching me. Bad.

"I… expected it to be more like, you touching my face, to get an idea of what I looked like. But it's like you are smelling your way around my body."

I guess that would come off as kind of creepy.

Kissing. We seem to be good with kissing. I hover over her, taking a moment to just enjoy the kissing.

Then she takes the lead.

Some parts of my body are just as sensitive as they have always been.

…

In the end, it was the worst sex on my life. I'm fairly sure she felt the same way. When we stopped (I can't even refer to it as "finished") we laid there, next to each other. She didn't say anything, and I wanted nothing more than to jump out the window.

… and fly home, from rooftop to rooftop.

Instead, I found my clothes and hailed a cab. I couldn't even endure walking around the city anymore.

When I got home, I changed out of the bloody clothes and took a shower, then went back to the roof. Instead of trying to sleep, I went to the edge.

If I were to take one step too far, would I know when, exactly, to grab the flagpole halfway down?

My senses have failed me before, but they have never let me fall to my death. Would they, now?

The wind moves differently at the edge. It comes between the two buildings, circling toward me. I love this feeling. I close my eyes and try my radar. It's not the beautiful view of the city that most people experience, but it's my view, and I so desperately want it back.

Instead, I just feel the wind between the buildings.

"Go ahead and jump. I won't let you kill yourself, though."

Without hesitating, I jump, hoping that Peter was ready.

I actually catch the flagpole. The cold metal feels good in my hands. I flip around twice, but can't will myself to let go. Beyond this point, I need a reference. I need my radar. My radar isn't kicking in to save me.

For a moment, I just hang there.

"You don't need radar to sit on that pole."

Spiderman was attached to the wall, next to me.

"As horrifying as this would seem to some, I assure you that right now, it's worse." I replied.

"You have that pole. It's like your stick-"

"-Cane."

"It grounds you. You have your muscles. Sit on this flagpole and chat."

"Somebody could…"

"Spidey sense says no."

I carefully pulled myself onto the pole. It's not the most comfortable place in the world, but it served the purpose. I was in the air, and the few seconds I had spent flying were enough to make me feel better.

"You are lousy at committing suicide." Peter joked.

"I want them back. I know my senses were a gift, but if I have to continue being blind, I want to continue to have the rest, as well."

"Did you have a nice trip to Times Square?"

Punny man.

"Seriously? You hang out in Times Square in costume?"

"No way. I like to go mock the men that are impersonating me. Who was that woman you left with?"

"No one important."

"She was pretty."

"She was kind." I replied.

"I haven't heard anything about missing powers from anybody else."

"You haven't told anyone, have you?"

"No."

"Thank you."

"We're still alone. You want me to take you back up?"

I reach for my senses one more time. Nothing.

"Yeah. That would be nice."

Before I realized it, I was wrapped in one of his webs, swinging between the buildings. It was horrifying and exhilarating, all at once. He was having fun with this.

"You better have a way to get me out." I commented, tucking into a roll as he flung the web higher.

"Of course I do!" He replied.

After a few minutes, I came down, and he released me from the web.

"Thanks, man."

"Not a problem. Stay out of trouble, okay?"

"I'll try."


	7. Chapter 7

Every morning, when I woke up, I hoped for the noise to be back. The noise. The pain, the smells. I would give anything to be nauseated by Foggy's cheese poofs. He even got me to eat a few, but once they were in my mouth, I could taste the chemicals.

I meditated for two hours a day. I became better at being really-blind. I even won a few fights.

I got my ass handed to me a few times, but the important part is that I won a few.

I almost got used to people sneaking up on me.

"Haven't seen you out lately."

I have ninja training, yet I'm man enough to admit that I shrieked a little at the sound of Natasha's voice in my bedroom.

"I haven't been out." I replied, steading my heart.

"You really didn't know I was here?"

"I was distracted."

Before I knew what was happening, Natasha had me pinned against the wall. "There really is something wrong with you."

"Yeah," I admitted. "Let me go."

She gently pulled away from me, but I could still smell her. Maybe I was building back my senses. At this rate, Daredevil would be effective again around the time he files for Social Security. Maybe crime-fighting would just become my retirement plan.

Natasha slapped me out of this train of thought.

"What?" I asked.

"I asked what was wrong with you."

"Your employer doesn't already have it all figured out?" I asked.

"Your absence, yet your presence here in Hell's Kitchen as Matt, has been noted."

"Maybe I just decided to give it up."

She punched me in the gut. I almost realized that it was happening in time to block it. "The truth, Matthew."

"It's gone." I said, quietly.

"What's gone?" She replied.

"My… enhancements."

She stepped away and I heard her flick at something. There was a quiet buzzing. It must be some radio frequency that would normally overwhelm my senses.

"I sort of hear that, but just barely." I admitted. At this point, I just hope she knows somebody that can help me.

Natasha moved to my bed. I could feel her staring.

"So the radar?"

"Nothing."

"And everything else?"

"I'm just a normal blind attorney with ninja training."

"Have you meditated?"

"More than ever before in my life."

"How did this happen?"

"I don't know." But I do.

"You're lying."

"It's silly."

"Living your life without your enhanced senses because you don't want to tell me how they went away is silly."

"I think one of the nuns prayed for this to happen."

"One of the nuns, or…"

"It's a silly idea. It's probably Mister Fear."

"But if it isn't, that means your powers are probably still there."

"Nobody is more in tune with their meditative state, Natasha. If I could reach inside myself and make it happen -" OOMPH!

She crashed into me, and before I could fight it, we were on the bed.

"We'll get them out."

"I've tried… this." I wasn't going to fight her as she unzipped my pants, but I didn't have much faith in a different outcome.

"With who? I doubt it was anybody as good at this as me."

"Don't you think highly of your - aaagggggh." She was definitely doing something that woke up my senses. "For the record, everything down there is just as sensitive as ev-AGGGHHH."

I fought to catch my breath. I had forgotten what she could do with just her hands.

"Feeling anything?" She asked.

"Is this some sort of sex magic?" I asked.

She silenced me with a kiss. I wrapped my fingers in her hair. It felt so good. I thought I could feel a little more, so I closed my eyes and threw out…. Nothing.

She must have seen my disappointment. "Oh, this isn't going to pull you out of your own ass, Matthew."

Before I realized what was happening, she had me handcuffed behind my back and was whispering in my ear.

"You couldn't find the power within yourself, so I'll find it in you."

"What are you talking about?"

She threw me face down on my bed, and I turned over. She was laughing.

"Without your powers you're worthless. I bet you aren't even a good lay."

Low blow.

"Oh. Well. I've never known you to struggle in bed. This is bad."

These weren't normal handcuffs. They constricted more, instead of loosening, if I worked my thumb. But I wasn't thinking about my thumb. Natasha was back against my ear. "We're going to do a little meditation exercise, Matty."

The feel of her breath against my skin always drive me mad.

"I'm going to help you put aside all other thoughts."

Then she wrapped something around my neck and pulled.

No matter how much you trust somebody-and I have no idea how much I actually trust Natasha-your body will fight when the air is cut off. Considering the circumstances, I think I put up a good fight. I wrapped my legs around her, throwing her against the wall. Somewhere along the line I wrenched my shoulder pretty well, too.

With that much effort, and whatever she had used to strangle me, I didn't fight for long. I collapsed back onto my bound hands, gasping for air that never reached my lungs.

She stroked my face. "It's okay, Matt. I'm just helping you reach within."

And then everything went quiet.

...

The first gasp of air tasted disgusting. It was the most deliciously disgusting breath I've ever taken.

"Welcome back, Matthew."

God bless her, she was whispering, and it was the loudest thing I had heard in a month.

My hands were free, and rubbing my fingers together was the most pleasant feeling I've ever had.

"Thank you." I said.

"All better?" She whispered.

"Why doesn't my throat hurt?" I ran my fingers over my skin and couldn't even feel the heat of a bruise.

"I didn't want to hurt you, just reboot your system."

The return of my senses was quickly becoming overwhelming, but I couldn't stop smiling.

"It worked."

"Then put on your tightest suit and come dancing with me."

Fin.

_Thank you all for coming on this quick, roughly put-together, journey. Extra special thanks to Shelby, for helping hash all these details out. _

_See you all at 12:01 Pacific Time._


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